Phone Home
by Gryvon
Summary: Derek receives a series of phone calls while Stiles is away at college.


It starts out innocuous at first. Stiles is off in Brooklyn at college and Derek doesn't expect to hear from him at first. That expectation lasts a whole of a month before Derek gets a phone call. He's in the shower when the call comes in so it goes to voicemail. He plays it back as soon as he gets out, his eyebrows rising towards his hairline with each slurred word.

"Derek. Hey, Derek. It's Stiles. I'm drunk right now. Isn't that awesome? I just wanted to say hi and I miss you and I think you're hot."

The message ends there. Derek stares at his phone for a good minute before he finally presses the delete button. It's just a drunken prank. Scott probably put him up to it.

He tosses the phone to the side and puts the call out of his mind.

* * *

There are two more drunken calls after that, each a week apart. Derek lets them go to voicemail each time. They're both the same. Stiles starts up his slur and then there's a scuffle and the phone cuts off. He knows Scott is behind the hang-ups which makes him think the first call, the call that started all this, was not a prank.

His suspicion is confirmed a week later.

"Hi, Derek. Scott won't let me call you when I'm drunk, but he's in the bathroom right now and I just wanted to say you should come visit us sometime. Also, you're hot and I've had a crush on you for years. Man, the way you slam me against walls, it's just... Heeey, Scott. Gotta go."

Derek can't help himself. He laughs. It starts out as a small chuckle, a bare shaking of his ribs and then blossoms into something real and full. He hasn't laughed like that since before the fire. He doesn't know why it's funny. It should be sad. Stiles has a crush on him. He's finally old enough that Derek could do something about it and Stiles is all the way in Brooklyn.

His life is a joke and he's the punchline.

* * *

The calls keep coming, getting less and less innocent as the months drag on. Derek doesn't see Stiles at all during winter break but he knows Stiles is there, in Beacon Hills. He can feel it. He wants to go to Stiles but he's not sure whether this thing they have is limited to drunk phone calls.

Then Stiles calls him, and the usual chaos of the bar is absent in the background. It's quiet save for Stiles's breath. The slur in his voice is familiar at least.

"I missed you over the holidays," Stiles says, his voice soft now that he's not shouting to compensate for the crowd. "I was waiting for you to crawl in through my window and yell at me. Or something else. I've always fantasized about you coming in through my window and doing naughty things to me. Would you fuck me? I'm still a virgin. I'm saving my cherry just for you."

Derek nearly crushes his phone as his grip goes tight and he has to force his hand to relax, force himself to breathe. Want rushes over him and all he can see is a red haze of lust.

Damn Brooklyn for being so far away.

* * *

The next call gets even worse. There're two voice messages this time.

"Derek." Stiles sounds out of breath. "There was a guy at the party tonight. I almost went home with him. He was wearing leather, but he didn't smell right. He wasn't you. God, I want you so bad Derek. I want you to pin me to the bed and fuck me until I can't see straight. I want you inside of me."

Derek is hard. He falls on his bed and palms himself through his jeans as he hits play on the second message.

"You never tell me to stop. I'd stop calling if you told me to, but you never mention it. I'll keep calling until you tell me to stop. One word. That's all I need and I'll leave you alone."

Derek holds the phone to his chest. There's no way he's going to tell Stiles to stop. Never.

* * *

Derek unzips his pants and settles on his bed with the door locked before he hits play on his voicemail.

"Derek." Stiles' voice is low and heavy, like he's been running but Derek knows that's not what has him out of breath. "I think of you when I touch myself." He's touching himself on the voicemail. Derek can hear it. He slips his hand in his pants and mirrors Stiles's strokes. There's a pause as Stiles breathes into the phone, his voice hitching. Stiles moans and it's the best sound Derek's ever heard.

The call cuts off and a second message starts up. "I want you, Derek. I really, really want you so bad it hurts. It sucks that I'm out here and you're out there. I'd suck you. God, I want to suck you. I'd take you in my mouth, swallow you whole. I want to taste you."

Derek groans. He nearly comes from that mental image alone.

Voicemail three is just Stiles panting. Derek holds his breath so he can savor every sound of it. His hand speeds up on his own cock. He wants to come when Stiles does.

The fourth voicemail is the best, the one Derek knows he's never going to delete from his phone. It's just Stiles chanting Derek's name, panting and moaning until he comes with Derek's name on his lips. Derek comes with him.

The phone stays pressed to his ear for another minute before he presses save. He gets off the bed, cleans himself off, and then goes to his computer.

He books a ticket to Brooklyn for that weekend.


End file.
